


Dancing through life

by fanetjuh



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Getting Together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:02:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21703423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanetjuh/pseuds/fanetjuh
Summary: Jon Snow is walking away from his last boxing class ever. Sansa Stark is on her way to become a prima ballerina. But when Jon sees a tear slipping down her cheek he rushes in to ask if she's okay. And that's when Sansa teaches him the difference between what ballet is to her and what dancing is to her.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 16
Kudos: 65
Collections: Jonsa Holidays 2019





	Dancing through life

**Author's Note:**

  * For [foreverreadingbeautifulbooks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/foreverreadingbeautifulbooks/gifts).



> I'm sorry it's not the most fluffy story ever, but I hope you like it anyway!

He should hate her. After all, it was her fault that he had just had his very last boxing class. Probably ever, because he was sure he was never gonna find anyone else who would teach him for free. And yet when he looked at her he didn’t feel disgust or hatred or not even dislike. He just felt mesmerised and enchanting.

The way she had her eyes closed while her hand moved gracefully up.The way the tip of her toes barely touched the ground when she drew an invisible circle around her. The way her fingers curled around the barre.

He just couldn’t stop watching even though he knew it was probably rude. And even though he knew that all his friends from his class would scold him if they’d hear about it. He, one of the best boxing talents ever, siding with the daughter of the evil witch who had decided that the boxing classes needed to be cancelled because her precious daughter needed more time to practise her endless ballet routines.

She balanced on the tips of her shoes and twirled around. Her skirt twirled around her legs and even though she was probably straining each and every muscle she looked as if she was just casually taking a stroll through the park.

Apart from that one tear that rolled down her beautiful cheek. Apart from her lips forming a straight line. Apart from the rapid movements of her chest.

“Sansa?” He didn’t know why he did it, but he rushed into the small room and only stood still when she looked up and her bright blue eyes stared into his brown ones. “I’m sorry...” He scratched the back of his neck and swallowed. “I just saw that tear rolling down your cheek and I thought...I wanted...” He let out a deep sigh and stared at the white floor beneath his shoes. “I’ll just leave you alone.” He turned around and walked back to the door through which he had entered.

“Jon?” Her voice was light, high pitched and even his short name sounded like a poem or a song now it rolled off of her tongue so easily. “I’m sorry.”

He looked over his shoulder.

She had her arms folded in front of her and even though she was quite tall, she looked small and vulnerable right now. “I’m sorry that my mom ended the boxing class. I know what it meant to all of you.”

Slowly he turned back towards her. “Well, you might become a famous ballerina. She means well, I guess.”

Sansa chuckled. “I don’t even know if I want to become a famous ballerina.” Her voice was soft, barely a whisper and yet Jon heard her loud and clearly. “I just want to dance.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

Sansa smiled. It was a beautiful smile lighting up her entire face. “No...” She reached for his hand and pulled him towards her. “I’ll show you the difference.” She placed his hand on the barre.

The wood felt solid but strange in his hand and he licked his lips, not sure what Sansa expected of him.

“Place your feet like this.” She let her feet form a straight line and Jon twisted his knees grimacing while he tried to mimic her position. “Keep your back straight.” She lifted her chin and even though her breasts were bound by her uniform he could feel their warmth touching his chest.

A blush coloured his cheeks, but he straightened his back and lifted his chin just like she did. 

“And now move your arm like this.” She lifted her arm up gracefully forming a perfect half circle above her head.

All his muscles, unused to the current form of exercise protested, but he refused to give up. 

“Your circle looks like some pregnant egg.” Sansa grabbed his elbow and a shiver rolled down his spine when her hand touched his arm. “It has to be perfect.”

Jon raised his eyebrows and all of a sudden he understood what she was showing him, what she endured day after day, practise after practise, hour after hour. 

It was not about dancing. It was about the perfect circle, the perfect angle, the perfect jump, the perfect movements, the perfect everything.

“And what is dancing supposed to be like?” His voice sounded a little hoarse and his throat was dry and he allowed his muscles to find a more relaxed and natural position again. “Because I don’t think there’s some ballet dancer inside of me.” He paused and cocked his head. “Not a dancer at all, actually.”

Sansa walked towards her phone attached to a small speaker. For a few seconds she scrolled and scrolled and then she tapped a button. Music filled the small practise room and quickly she took her ballet shoes off before she walked back to him.

“Boxing and dancing aren’t that different.” She grabbed his hands and her hips started moving while she pulled him through the room with her. “I’ve seen some of those practise routines you guys are doing and they have a rhythm, a pattern. Just like dancing.” She guided his hands to her shoulders and then she placed hers on his hips. She followed the rhythm of the song effortlessly and gracefully. 

She had already been beautiful while she had been doing that same routine over and over again, but now there were little lights dancing in her eyes and the smile on her face was brightening and brightening. 

It was liberating and slightly contagious. Jon still had no idea what he was doing, but he was just letting her guide her, moving through the room, following the rhythm of the song and trying to keep up with her steps.

“See?” Sansa now wrapped her arms completely around him and pressed him to her chest. She kept on moving and dancing and every swing of her hips made him forget all his insecurities and doubts more and more.

He banged his head, his curls dangling in front of his eyes and he laughed when Sansa untied the bun on top of her head and freed her long red hair. He jumped up and down. On one leg, on two. He hopped around and at one moment, drunk on the adrenaline rushing through his veins, he found the courage to twirl this beautiful girl to his chest.

Her elbow touched his sternum and he gasped for breath, but he kept holding on to her and rocked her in his strong embrace.

The song was long over already, but they were dancing to the next song too and the next song and the next song.

Sometimes she danced gracefully, sometimes she just danced silly, sometimes she pressed her body close to his and sometimes she danced at a distance, allowing his eyes to slide over her entire body, drinking in each movement and curve. And not once did she judge him, did she tell him to stop dancing himself. She just kept on smiling. She just kept on inviting him to dance along. To touch her. To hold her.

Eventually, when the sun already started setting, they fell down on the floor. They were both out of breath and Jon felt the veins in his neck beating rapidly. 

“And that...” Sansa took in a deep breath and leaned on her hands. “That is dancing.” She threw her head in her neck and her red hair waved down beautifully. “It’s freedom. It’s expression and it’s something you share with others, with people you like.”

Jon locked his glance with hers. “You like me?”

“You’re the only one who’s look doesn’t attempt to kill me at the moment.” She swallowed. “And the only one who noticed...” She didn’t finish her sentence.

“Your mom is very strict about this, isn’t she?” Jon cocked his head and Sansa nodded.

“She means well. She wants me to do what makes me happy.”

“But ballet isn’t doing that.” 

Sansa bent her head. “I don’t dare to tell her that. She’s giving me every chance some girls can only dream of.” 

Jon shove a little closer towards her and he wrapped an arm around her tender shoulders. Every muscle in his body hurt, but he felt better than he had felt in days and he wanted Sansa to feel like that too. “San...” He wasn’t sure if he could call her that, but she didn’t protest so he took that as a yes. “I know it’s easy for me to say, since I have no parents, but...” He shrugged. “Your life is yours. You should do what makes you happy and not waste it on things to make others happy.”

“You haven’t met my mom, did you?” Sansa laughed and shook her head.

“I did.” He grinned. “Do you want me to come with you to tell her what you want and feel?” 

“Would you really do that?” Sansa sat up and her eyes widened when he nodded. “Really?”

Jon tightened his grip on her shoulders. “And afterwards I’ll take you out for dinner and dancing. The good kinda dancing.” He paused. “If you want that, of course.” 

Sansa smiled and then she leaned towards him her lips slightly touching his for a brief second. “That sounds perfect, Jon.”


End file.
